Sarah PotterMalfoy
by Tamarisk Gold
Summary: Sarah ran away when she was nine. She changed her name. She didn't want to be associated with the Potters or the Malfoys. Twoshot. Mild corse language, hints of slash.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I've been neglecting fanfiction. Sorry. I know, I'm not done with my big story, but this one's ready. So I'm posting it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

* * *

Someday, someone would find out. It wasn't like she could keep it a secret forever. But not yet, and that was good enough for her.

Someday, though, someone would find out about her. Someone would discover who her parents were, and soon afterward everyone would know.

She had run away when she was nine. She had refused to use either of her parents' last name; she had chosen her own name, one from her family history but one no one would connect with them. Black.

Two years later, she had gotten the letter. At first, she didn't want to go.

But the letter had said Sarah R. _Black._

So either they didn't know, or they were willing to _pretend_ they didn't know.

She made her way across the English countryside, reached London, and took the train from Platform 9 and ¾.

She knew that one day, someone, somewhere, would realise that Sarah Black was actually Sarah Potter-Malfoy.

* * *

I had to laugh at my nine-year-old. She was cute, thinking she could run away. We let her, of course. Figured it would be a good life lesson, figured she would come back in a few days, a week at most. But she didn't.

We kept thinking she'd come home. But she didn't.

So I helped her. On my own, pretending I had to work late, leaving food or money for her in a sneaky way. So my darling Sarah would never know that she really wasn't on her own.

* * *

She'd been sorted into Ravenclaw. A safe house. But one thing already knew about her parents: the Sorting Hat.

She hated them. All of them. Stupid, stuck-up, spoiled brats.

Except one of them.

His name was Tom, and he was her best friend. They did everything together. Classes, homework, Quidditch. They were both Chasers. They worked out their own strategies. They had different personalities and one thing in common: they had run away from the truth.

* * *

I was watching her at Hogwarts, too, and I saw what she didn't yet: she and Tom would one day fall in love.

I'd told Tom's parents that he was safe and that I was watching him, but nothing else. He was using a fake name, just like Sarah, but I knew who he was.

He would be the one to find out that Sarah was my daughter.

* * *

Second year, she had a top-notch broom, sent to her anonymously by me. Tom had a matching one, and when the team was two Chasers down, they played. The two of them, on their own, could beat a team made of the best players on the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams, even as second-years.

* * *

Third year, Tom and Sarah were at the top of their class. They were on the Quidditch team as permanent members now. They had also discovered the wonders of nighttime wanderings. Sarah had gotten the Invisibility Cloak for her birthday, delivered anonymously by me. The snuck about through the castle, hidden by the Cloak. They spent all night out together, slept in the common room– and never left each other's sides. It was cute, when they were thirteen.

* * *

**Second chapter coming soon. R&R, please!**

**-Tamarisk**


	2. Chapter 2

******A/N: So this was supposed to be up months ago... Sorry. Literally the day I posted the first chapter, I tripped. And dropped my laptop. And broke the hard drive. And lost the story. But here it is. Rewritten. Read and Review.**

* * *

In our fourth year, I told Tom who my parents were, what my real name was, and why I had run away. He payed me back in kind, and about halfway through the year he changed his name back. He kept trying to convince me to do the same, but I refused. What would everyone think? Tom tried to convince me it wasn't a big deal. I convinced him to drop it. We were still at the top of our class and kicking ass in Quidditch. We won the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup.

I also got a letter from my father.

I hadn't talked to him in years.

* * *

We went our separate ways the summer after fourth year. We'd spent all of the holidays together since we got to school, and we usually spent the whole summer together. Between fourth and fifth year, however, we only spent the few weeks just after the year and just before start-of-term together. I didn't tell Tom that I'd gone back, briefly, to see my parents. It's what my father asked me to do in his letter. So I did.

In the weeks I was alone, I began to miss Tom immensely. I realised that I liked him, a _lot._ I probably had for a long time. It was only a matter of time; Tom was pretty much my only friend, and we had a lot of big things in common, like our pasts, out grades, and our Quidditch skills. So it didn't come as much of a surprise when I started liking him.

* * *

Fifth year, I finally consented to changing my name back. Everyone knew my name. Everyone knew I was a Potter-Malfoy. There were whispers and looks in the corridors, but nothing as bad as I thought I might get. Tom and I spent the year studying up for our OWLs. We spent a lot of time together, in the library and on the Quidditch pitch. No more time than we'd spent together in the past years, but still not enough for me. I didn't think Tom liked me, but I could still hope. I read too far into everything he did. I couldn't tell.

* * *

In our sixth year, the Tri-Wizard Tournament returned to Hogwarts. Tom and I were both old enough to be champions– but we had different opinions on the matter.

"Come on, Sarah. Galleons upon Galleons _and_ eternal glory."

"I don't _want_ eternal glory, Tom. I get enough whispers in the corridors since I changed my name back."

"But _eternal glory,_ Sarah."

"_You_ enter, then, Tom– go on."

In the end, we both entered.

Tom was chosen.

Come winter, rumors flew about the Yule Ball– and, sure enough, we were given dancing lessons.

I knew Tom had to have a date– as the school's champion, he would dance first.

To my surprise– and it was _definitely_ a pleasant surprise– he asked me.

And not as a last resort.

I said yes, of course.

The second task of the Tournament was _exactly_ like the stories I'd heard from my grandparents. I couldn't tell Tom what I knew– although I was _extremely_ pleased that I was Tom's treasure. Not that there was really anyone else. I was always mostly his only friend, just like he was always mine. So he pulled me, sopping wet, from the Black Lake.

The end of the year came, and with it another Tri-Wizard victory for Hogwarts and another letter from my father.

For the first time in my six years at school, I rode the train back to King's Cross at the end of the term.

"Relax, Sarah."

"Tom, my _parents_ are going to be there."

"I'm sure not _both_ of them. Surely Mr Malfoy–"

"But what if–"

"Relax."

I stepped off the train, hand-in-hand with my (finally) boyfriend.

And then I saw him.

Tom's jaw dropped, and he whispered, "he _didn't."_

My father hadn't seen me yet– perhaps if I snuck away– but no, he'd just seen me. He broke into a grin.

I wanted to disappear.

Everyone was looking at us.

"There's my beautiful daughter."

And now everyone knew.

Nothing would be the same after this.

Because everyone knew my name was Potter-Malfoy.

And now everyone knew that Albus Severus Potter was my father.

And everyone knew that Scorpius Malfoy was an only child.

* * *

**A/N: Yay. Done. R&R!**


End file.
